


Scream

by silentdescant



Series: Snapshots [15]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Flogging, M/M, Masochism, S&M, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: It’s taken Scott a long time to reach this point, this level of confidence in his role. He knows Mitch’s body like he knows his own, knows Mitch’s physical limits like the back of his hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> KINKtober Day 11: Sadism/Masochism

It’s taken Scott a long time to reach this point, this level of confidence in his role. He knows Mitch’s body like he knows his own, knows Mitch’s physical limits like the back of his hand. He knows his equipment just as well, knows its capabilities in his hands and in Mitch’s.

The tails of leather sing as they fly through the air, disrupting the stillness and generating a comforting sort of breeze in the heat-thick room. He can smell the sharp tang of warmed leather and the acrid moisture of the sweat that pours from Mitch’s body. Scott hates being closed up in stuffy rooms and he knows Mitch hates it even more, but there’s something intoxicating about it when sex is the cause. He craves the sweat, then, luxuriates in the stench of it and the slickness when they touch. He likes watching the drops slip down Mitch’s back and the tip of his nose, cling to his hair or his eyelashes.

Scott pulls the flogger through his hand, snapping it straight forward once so just the tips of the tails make contact. It fills the room with a satisfying crack and Scott releases a breath and grins, exhilarated by the sound. He spins the flogger a few times, building up momentum. It’s heavy, thick-tailed even though the strips themselves are cut narrow. This is one of Mitch’s favorite floggers; they’ve experimented and learned together that Mitch prefers a heavy sting to a deeper thud.

Mitch is facing away from him so there’s no need to pull out any fancy tricks or figure-eights. Scott simply twirls his wrist and slaps the tails across Mitch’s shoulder blades, again and again and again, light and quick. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm with this sort of constant motion, but Scott would rather keep Mitch on his toes, unable to anticipate the next strike, so he backs up and catches the tails in his hand again.

Another two forward snaps, gradually moving in, slowly building up intensity. Scott reverses direction and lays a few light underhand smacks to the lower curve of Mitch’s ass, aiming for the crease where his ass meets his thighs. Scott knows from experience that it hurts now, but it’ll be more painful tomorrow, and Scott wants this session to last.

Now that Mitch is warmed up and his skin is reddened nicely around his shoulders, Scott moves in to get better leverage for more solid strikes. This is the part that scared Scott, at first. This is where it gets painful. But this is what Mitch craves.

When Scott was first learning, he made Mitch flog him, give him the intensity he wanted to receive so Scott could have a real sense of the pain and the damage it would cause. They’ve since moved beyond Scott’s limits for pain and into a world that only Mitch enjoys, but those first months were crucial to Scott’s journey, to his eventual confidence.

He knows now how intense he needs to be to draw whimpers out of Mitch, and how much to amp it up so Mitch will scream. Scott hated the screams at first, when he didn’t understand them, but the way Mitch explained it will always stick with him: vocalizing releases the energy, releases the pain, makes it manageable and turns it into something he can enjoy. Now, Scott knows Mitch’s screams as well as he knows any other aspect of Mitch’s voice.

This scene has gone on long enough already and Mitch probably doesn’t have the stamina to withstand much more, so Scott needs to dial up the intensity quickly. He swings the flogger over his shoulder and gives his wrist a break while he steps forward to run his fingertips through the lines of sweat dripping down Mitch’s back.

Mitch is burning hot, radiating and glowing like an ember, and he shudders when Scott touches him. He’s panting hard. Scott tucks his fingers under Mitch’s chin and directs him to look up and back, meet Scott’s gaze.

Mitch’s eyes are half-lidded and he’s slow to focus. Not bad thing, but good to know. Scott ducks down to kiss him and keeps it sweet, only tracing Mitch’s open lips with his tongue before pulling away.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give any commands, but he doesn’t have to. Mitch faces forward again and heaves in a deep breath, centering himself and rolling his shoulders to prepare for this next round. Scott wonders sometimes if Mitch has any sense of time while he’s under; does Mitch know they’re nearing the end of the scene? Is he aware of how long he’s spent on his knees with his arms stretched and bound to either side? Scott thinks he probably isn’t, judging by what Mitch has told him about his headspace experiences.

Mitch focuses singularly on obedience when he’s deep under, needs commands or instructions for even simple tasks, and sometimes he can’t even come up with words to beg for what he wants. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he wants. He’s explained that he trusts Scott to know, and to know whether or not to grant him whatever it is. It’s a responsibility Scott doesn’t take lightly.

He steps back into position at Mitch’s back and flexes his hand a few times, rolling his wrist to relieve the ache before taking the flogger off his shoulder.

He wants Mitch to scream for him. He’s grown to love the piercing sound.

He swings and listens to the thick, pointed tails make contact. There’s so many, Scott can’t identify each slap, but the patter of it sounds wet and heavy. Droplets of sweat flick into the air as Scott draws back.

Mitch is making noise; he always makes noise. It’s just not the right noise. Not yet.

Scott puts more force into the next few swings, and Mitch gets louder and louder as the strikes land quicker. He’s close. It won’t take much more. He aims down, hitting the top of Mitch’s ass, then lower, across the back of his thighs. It’s hard to get a good angle with Mitch already on his knees. He presses his boot to the inside of Mitch’s ankle, silently directing him to spread his legs.

Mitch does so automatically, widening his stance and twisting his hands to pull himself more upright. He’s still firmly gripping the ropes that bind him, and he hasn’t lost balance once so far tonight. Scott is proud of him, and he makes a mental note to praise Mitch’s form later.

Scott starts up an underhanded swing, building up speed, and slowly brings the flogger close enough to land the strikes. The tails brush across Mitch’s ass at first, until Scott puts more strength into the looping swing. The thick edges of the leather strips curve just right, snaking between Mitch’s cheeks to slap against his asshole, and Mitch chokes, his breath stutters.

Finally, he screams.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
